


I'll Meet You There in Time

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: RWBY
Genre: Fairy Tale Retellings, Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Mistletoe, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 15:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13103277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: Everyone knows what you’re supposed to do under a spring of mistletoe, but the story of how that tradition began is far more complex.(An ozqrow remix of the Norse fairy tale)





	I'll Meet You There in Time

**Author's Note:**

> A Secret Santa gift for baconflavoredcosplay <3 <3 <3 
> 
> Prompt: Mistletoe

Once upon a time, back when the sun shone brighter and the constellations were still new, there lived a wise and generous King.

 

In truth he was a God, though many believe that truth is only what you make of it, and he found the title of King more fitting for his humble demeanor; a gentler word on the tongue of those who approached him. There was no hiding his power though. The King had Life woven into his form, with eyes born from the rich earth beneath his feet and strands of white hair crafted from small bits of moonlight. The suit he wore was stitched with greenery from his garden and his glasses reflected each breath that passed his lips. He was Life itself, and he was said to be beautiful.

 

The world named him Ozpin.

 

And for many centuries Ozpin was thought to be content. After all, was Life not joyous? There was always a smile gracing Ozpin's face, a small, enigmatic thing that never quite reached his eyes. But no creature realized this, because to look a God in the eye—even a King—was more than they could bear. So the animals of his land saw only that smile and Ozpin's gentle hands, reassured that he was as happy in their presence as they were in his. Few if any noticed his discontent.

 

For every day Ozpin would walk through his gardens and each time he did the wildlife there would greet him in their fashion, doing what they could to strengthen that smile. Small bugs would alight on his wrists and his shoulders, fluttering iridescent wings that shined in the sunlight. Rabbits danced around his feet, enticing him to pet them, and Ozpin did... but it was always for their benefit, rather than his own. Snakes came out in full force during dusk, winding up his legs and settling around his shoulders. One particularly loyal viper even gave up its form for Ozpin, becoming a gorgeous, silver cane that he kept with him from then on. But even that couldn't please him. Not really.

 

For Kings were a lonely breed; even more-so if they were Gods. 

 

The only thing that brought Ozpin any real joy were the birds. Their songs were always pleasing to his ears and their demeanor endlessly faithful. Ozpin allowed the robins and the blue jays to land on his fingers, bringing them close for conversation.

 

"Your plumage is beautiful," he told them, watching as those feathers ruffled with pride. "And your music remains sweeter than sugar. Yet you're the only ones who ever come to my gardens. Surely there are more birds out there? Ones I've long forgotten?"

 

Questions like this made all the animals uneasy. Gods and Kings were meant for high castles; in Ozpin's case, quite literally. He had a magnificent palace and acres of lush land to explore, every material possession right at his fingertips. Animals came during the daylight to shower him with praise and the stars were there at night to watch over him. What more could he want for?

 

Yet Ozpin continued his questioning, too curious about the world outside his gilded walls to give it up. And the birds, he'd realized, were the only ones who could fly over that barrier.

 

"Tell me," he begged, stroking the tops of their heads. "What else is out there? Who are your kin?" and they squirmed, unable to deny him anything he wished.

 

"There are the doves," a bluebird said slowly, "but they are too plain for your eyes, sire."

 

A hummingbird zipped about, nodding. "And there are the eagles. Magnificent, but too cruel for your presence."

 

"And the crows bring nothing but Death."

 

Later, the other birds would chastise the robin for even mentioning crows, but the deed was already done. Ozpin's eyes had alighted at the word, curious about these creatures that supposedly carried Death on their wings. For that, more than anything, was what was denied him. He was a God of Life, and thus everything he touched grew healthy and strong. Death wasn’t a part of this place.

 

Death was his sister's domain.

 

Ozpin begged for details, though no matter how the birds tried to spin their tales he only grew more fascinated. The crow's feathers are course and dirty, they said. They would mar your perfect fingers—but Ozpin itched to feel a black feather in his palm. Their eyes are beady, the birds said. Shifty and full of lies. You'd find nothing but hardship there—and still Ozpin imagined his own face reflected back in those dark pools. They have no songs, the birds insisted. Crows can only croak at you, damaging your ears—but Ozpin knew croaking from the toads in his ponds. He understood that many things were beautiful in spirit if not in appearance.

 

"I wish to meet a crow," he told them. "Bring one to me."

 

"But sire—"

 

" _Today_."

 

And though Ozpin was kind and generous and good, he could thread power into his words whenever he wished. The birds felt it in that moment, skittering down their fragile, hollow spines. They alit from his fingers and flew from his domain, off to fulfill their task.

 

For they could deny him nothing, even when it was in Ozpin's best interest to do so.

 

Having heard the quarrel, the snakes sped back to their vines, just a whisper of sound along the grass. The rabbits stayed in their burrows and the bugs hovered far away. Ozpin was left alone for the remainder of the morning. Then the afternoon. Then twilight. It was only when there was just a sliver of light left that Ozpin spotted a new silhouette against the sky. The other birds had kept their promise by mere moments and they left when the oath was fulfilled.

 

Only the crow remained.

 

When he landed he was almost impossible to see. The crow’s black feathers blended into the shadows and his eyes shown with very little light. It took Ozpin's breath away, for though he’d created all Life, he could no longer recall anything like the crow’s equal. This creature's very essence was everything that Ozpin was not.

 

"Hello," he ventured and the crow came closer, landing atop the back of a bench. "I'm Ozpin."

 

"I know," the crow replied. "And I am Qrow." 

 

All the animals had their names, yet somehow the word 'crow' sounded different in his beak. Like a second name; like how Ozpin was 'Ozpin' and 'King' and 'God' and 'Life’ all rolled into one. There were many names he went by, though he'd never known another to carry more than one. Yet here was a crow, calling itself Qrow.

 

He was an individual and Ozpin was enthralled.

 

"Do you wish for Death?"

 

He startled, lost in his own thoughts and not at all expecting to hear a question such as _that_. Qrow hopped a little closer, head cocked. Ozpin considered his next words very carefully.

 

"No," he said. "My sister and I remain separate for a reason. I have no true desire to meet her. Why would you ask such a thing?"

 

"Because you are said to be curious and because that is why she calls me to her. I am a crow. I carry only death and destruction with me. What other purpose do I serve?"

 

"You..."

 

But Ozpin didn't know. It was his job to watch over Life, not create meaning for it. Still, there was something sad in Qrow's eyes, something that seemed familiar to the God-King, and Ozpin felt his chest tightening, something he could not name beginning to course through him. He had no word to describe sympathy, but that's what had settled just below his heart.

 

"You will be my crow then," he decreed, voice far stronger than his conviction. "My _Qrow_. I order you to pass beyond the boundaries of Life and tell me what you find there. You will do this every night for as long as I desire."

 

And Qrow inclined his head, spreading his wings and bowing before his new master. He took to the skies and with moonlight on his wings disappeared into the distance.

 

Ozpin knew that there would be consequences for this action. He was not meant to steal from his sister's world, nor she his. Yet he found that he couldn't regret the choice, for though he still enjoyed his time with the animals each day, it was nights that Ozpin now looked forward to most. For at each sunset Qrow would return to him with wild, impossible tales. He spoke of things beyond Life that seemed impossible to one such as Ozpin; vicious beasts who existed only to bring despair, creatures that fell from their wounds and decayed, becoming earth once more. They were dark, horrible stories, and each time Qrow told one he would shield his eyes with his wing, disgusted at his conduct.

 

"I have upset you," he said one night after a particularly visceral tale.   

 

"No," Ozpin whispered. "Never."

 

"I have. It's true, sire, that my existence brings only horror to others."

 

But Ozpin smiled—a true smile, and Qrow was the only one there to see it. "You are wrong, little one. Your stories, while terrible, have made me wiser. I always knew that I was one half of a whole, but I did not _understand_ that before your teachings. Things must Live before they can Die, and there can be no Death without Life. You are not a creature of darkness, you are my messenger: bringing me knowledge, _truth_ , each and every night."

 

Qrow had no way of expressing how much the King's words moved him, nor could Ozpin yet admit that Qrow had given him far more than just wisdom. For the first time he felt as if he had a true companion, someone who spoke to him plainly and with the power of an equal. Some of these thoughts bled out so that the other birds grew uneasy, but what were they to do? Ozpin had already started down this path. No one had any hope of dissuading a God.

 

The King fell for the crow and the crow fell for the King. It was on their hundredth night together that Ozpin greeted his friend—for he was that, always—on his knees, his beloved cane extended before him. Qrow landed on the familiar bench, agitated at this change in routine.

 

"Rise sire," he begged. "You kneel before no one."

 

"I would kneel before you, Qrow." Ozpin said it to the grass, his head also bowed. "Please grant me this gift... and another, for I am selfish and cruel."

 

"You are neither of these things."

 

"I am, you simply have not realized it yet."

 

Qrow considered this, but could see neither cruelty nor selfishness in the King. Like Ozpin, he could not deviate from the road he'd started down. Each was blinded by the other.

 

"I would grant you anything you wish," Qrow whispered and once more Ozpin heard the truth in his words. He rose, setting his cane lightly atop Qrow's head.

 

"Then I wish for you to be more than what you already are."

 

Magic pulsed through him, the same magic that Ozpin had used to create Life itself. This was different though, for he was not crafting an animal, but _changing_ one... changing it into something new. With heart overflowing Ozpin wished for his faithful Qrow to be remade in his image—and there he stood. A man of strong built and gentle red eyes, his hair the color of his wings.

 

"You are like me now," Ozpin said. "And also like yourself. I give you the ability to be both."

 

Qrow dropped to his knees in a mirror of Ozpin before him, but the king would not have it. He pulled his most faithful companion into an embrace and discovered what would later be known as a hug, what people would one day call a kiss. Ozpin had never had a being like himself before and they discovered everything together.

 

It sowed unease among the other animals. They did not know what to make of the crow that had taken the shape of a God, or why Life would invite this dirty creature into his home and his bed. What they did together was new and therefore, to many, obscene. Soon the other animals began to avoid Ozpin's gardens. He did not mind though. He sent them lovingly into the rest of the world, knowing that he now had everything he wanted at his side.

 

"I love you," Qrow said one day, speaking another new and unfamiliar word. Ozpin understood what it meant though and he rejoiced. For in that moment Qrow was truly his equal: he too had become a creator all his known. The lived well and they lived happy.   

 

…Yet it would not last.

 

In his arrogance—or perhaps in his love—Ozpin had forgotten about his sister and the consequence of his initial decree. For she had indeed noticed the theft of her crow and did not take kindly to the action. When word reached her that Ozpin had not just stolen this creature, but _changed_ his very form... she decided that a theft of her own was not enough. She would have the greatest power that Ozpin possessed: his own Life.

 

Qrow flew through the palace window one day, stumbling as he transformed. Ozpin had never seen fear before, yet he recognized it instinctually in Qrow's eyes. He trembled as he relayed one last truth to his king.

 

"Salem has vowed to have your Life, Ozpin. She..."

 

He was unable to finish. Ozpin touched a tender hand to Qrow's cheek, quieting him. "Then we will fight," he said simply. "You have never failed me. What do you suggest?"

 

"I must protect you."

 

"Then do so."

 

Qrow took to the skies, remembering Ozpin's words that everything was part of a whole. If Salem wished to kill him she would have to use Ozpin's Life to do so... and that right there was her weakness. For Ozpin had been kind to his creations and Qrow was the most loyal of them all.

 

He went first to all his brethren, the birds who turned their tails up at his approach and cast him disgusted looks. Still, they listened when they heard of the danger their King was in and vowed to keep him safe. Salem would not reach Ozpin through them. No eagle would claw out his throat and no vulture would peck out his eyes.

 

Qrow went next to all the snakes, dangerous in their poison. Again each vowed that no harm would come to Ozpin under their watch. He would not be crushed between their scales, nor go still from a bite of their fangs.

 

He might have stopped there, but Qrow was as cunning as he was faithful. He went to the rabbits as well, securing their promises even though they said that they had no means of harming a God. He had all the bugs swear their oath; everything that lived in the sky and on land and in the sea. When he had spoken with every animal Qrow went next to the greenery that surrounded the boarders of Life. No tree would ever fall on Ozpin, nor harm him with a branch. The thistles would not prick his skin. Vines would leave his throat in peace.

 

Qrow even ventured into the border lands where, like him, Life dwelled, but had succumbed to Death's bidding over time. Still, they all knew their first creator. The creatures of darkness promised to keep their claws and their teeth to themselves.

 

It was only when Qrow was sure that he'd secured promises from every Living creature that he returned to Ozpin. That night he slept in his lover's arms, content that he was finally safe.

 

But he was in error.  

 

For even in his diligence Qrow had missed one plant on his journey. It wasn't his fault, for this creation was small and innocuous. Even Ozpin did not remember it... and perhaps it was the plant's bitterness that called Salem to it.

 

That night she entered Life's domain while her brother and Qrow slept. Salem was everything that Ozpin was not: pale to his rosy cheeks, eyes of darkness, a dress crafted from shadows. That night she also carried a bow, whereas Ozpin's hand had never touched a weapon.

 

Her approach was obvious. Salem killed everything that she touched, all the grass and the flowers that were unfortunate enough to lay in her path. Yet Qrow and Ozpin slept on, confident in their safety. Thus it was that Salem was able to cross his gardens, breach the castle walls, and walk straight into Ozpin's chamber. The world had never known a cruel smile before, but Salem gave one that night—right when she shot an arrow of mistletoe straight through Ozpin's heart.

 

He woke with the first scream.

 

Salem left, thrilled at her victory as she felt Death beginning to take its hold. Qrow, of course, remained. He saw what had happened in an instant, blood pooling into his hands even as they tried desperately to cradle Ozpin, to undo what had already been done. Tears were born that night, soaking into the mistletoe embedded in the King's chest, becoming white, poisonous berries.

 

"I'll kill her," Qrow swore, shaking as he brushed more blood from Ozpin's lips. "I swear it."

 

But Ozpin shook his head, smiling up at his beloved. It was another true smile and that, more than anything, stilled Qrow's rage.

 

"You cannot kill her, no more than she can fully kill me. So long as she exists, I exist, and you..." Ozpin cupped Qrow's cheek, suddenly unsure. "You will wait for me?" 

 

" _Yes_."

 

"Then this is not Death," he whispered and Ozpin grew still in Qrow's arm. His final words had not been 'I love you,' yet Qrow had heard them all the same.

 

That night he created the first burial and from then on Death began to creep into Life's domain. Creatures and plants died from then on out, yet they always returned with time. Not exactly as they'd been before. They were changed with each cycle, but Ozpin had been right. Life continued.

 

For his part, Qrow took what little power of creation he had and made more animals in his image— _Ozpin's_ image. Together they had the power to create Life and slowly balance was restored. Salam had her forces and Qrow had his... until one day even he passed into her territory, as all things must.

 

Before he did though, he made his first and last decree: the mistletoe plant was not to be punished for its crime. Rather, all who saw it would embrace as he and Ozpin had, a kiss given under its leaves. It was Qrow's way of making sure that his beloved lived on; changing the plant just as Ozpin had once changed him.

 

He Died. The seasons evolved, as did the world along with them. Nothing ever truly ends. Everything is cyclical... and Qrow kept his promise, for he was the most faithful of all Ozpin's creations.

 

He was the one who truly loved him.

 

Lifetimes later, a hunter named Qrow meandered the halls of Beacon Academy, vaguely hungover and _definitely_ pissed. The last thing he wanted was to meet this damned headmaster, a guy who was probably as pretentious and stuck-up as the rest of them. It was bound to be a fucking disaster. A real massive, cluster fuc—

 

"You must be Qrow."

 

A man stood in the doorway. 

 

How Ozpin knew him Qrow couldn't say, but maybe it had something to do with the fact that _he_ looked familiar in turn. White hair like moonlight and a suit the color of leaves. A cane and a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. Qrow stumbled forward, knees suddenly weak.

 

"Yeah," he managed.

 

 Desperate to escape those piercing eyes, Qrow's gaze skittered up, widening as he found a spring of mistletoe directly above their heads. He was still looking at the heavens when Ozpin bent down to brush their lips together.

 

“Well,” Ozpin chuckled. "That’s quite the first greeting, wouldn't you say?"

 

Qrow could only nod. And yet... he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't their first meeting. That they'd met somewhere before and that kiss was _familiar_.

 

He touched fingertips gently to his mouth, bemused. But it didn't deter him. When Ozpin gestured for Qrow to enter his office he found his feelings about this partnership greatly changed. Suddenly, this was something Qrow wanted. Needed, even.

 

He fell naturally into step behind Ozpin, always faithful.

 

Loving too.

 


End file.
